


More Than Passion

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universes, First Times, M/M, Romance, Series: Passion Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:16:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuing the story of Jim, the taxi driver and Blair, the Doctor of Anthropology . . . Guide discovers Sentinel.<br/>This story is a sequel to Finding Passion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Passion

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Any factual inaccuracies are my own. La Montana should be spelled with a '~' over the 'n.' My gratitude, as always, to Carla for the painless beta. Without her, I'd still be fussing over this thing. And last, but certainly not least, I'd like to thank the people who sent me feedback on part one. Bless you. You're the reason I'm posting part two in a little less than a month. Hope you like it. 
> 
> Warnings: Profanity. Explicit m/m sex. 
> 
> This story is a sequel to Finding Passion

## More Than Passion

by Bette Bourgeois

Author's disclaimer: Not intended to infringe on the rights of any copyright holders for The Sentinel. Not to be redistributed without the permission of the author.

* * *

More Than Passion 

Jim Ellison's ego had taken a severe beating over the past seven years. He'd left the Army a decorated hero with nowhere to go and had managed to build himself a respected career in law enforcement. When Jim handed his detective badge back to his captain two years ago a piece of him had died, a slice of him that he really couldn't afford to lose. A couple of ex-Army buddies had pulled him back from the edge, had helped him make it through another day and another, but it had been a long haul back to reality and the road hadn't been pretty. In his mind, Blair Sandburg had become the embodiment of a dream; a dream Jim couldn't afford to let go of now that he'd touched it. Jim was glad that he had always been a risk taker. It made it easier for him to gather enough courage to take just one more. 

He'd been much too anxious to let things happen naturally with Blair. He'd been too damn scared to back off like any sane individual would have done. So that first morning after Blair had woken up in his bed, after he'd sucked Blair's spine out through his dick in the shower and then fed Blair breakfast and helped him dress, he'd offered Blair a key to the loft. Yeah, he realized it was too soon. He was laying on too much pressure. It was too damn reckless to trust this guy already. But he'd done it anyway, and with a slight hesitation and a piercing stare that lasted an endless minute, Blair had accepted it, and accepted Jim's offer: "I want you here anytime you want to be here." He'd met Blair's stare as best he could. "I want you here whenever you can be here." 

But the feel of Blair's warm body in his arms seconds later, and the intensity of the kiss they shared before Blair tore himself away and ran out the door with a wave, hadn't really helped to stave off the panicked feeling that he'd just made a huge mistake. He'd ended up acting abrupt to the point of rudeness with the day's customers and with Danny, then had to weather his boss' stinging tirade at the end of his shift that evening. He accepted it with stoicism, knowing he deserved it. But it had been a depressing end to a depressing day and he'd headed home intending to get drunk. 

When he got there the door to the loft was unlocked and he opened it with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. He could hear someone humming. Blair was in the kitchen and he looked up with a smile as Jim came closer. There was a large pot bubbling on the stove and a delicious smell wafting out of it. The lounge was lit with lamplight, the electric fire was glowing in the fireplace and two glasses of wine were poured and waiting on the coffee table. 

"Hi," Blair wiped off his hands, adjusted a burner knob on the stove and came out from behind the kitchen island. He grinned at Jim's stunned immobility and started undoing Jim's jacket, easing it over the taller man's broad shoulders and sliding it off. He turned to hang it up and Jim watched the muscles move inside his tight jeans with fascination. Tight jeans, tight butt. Beautiful. "Jim?" Blair had to prompt him. 

"Hi," Jim finally managed, his smile growing slowly and not stopping until he was grinning broadly. "You're here." 

"Yup," Blair pulled Jim's unresisting form towards the lounge and pushed him down onto one of the sofas. He knelt down and pulled off Jim's boots and carried them over to sit beneath his hanging jacket, right beside Blair's boots. Jim watched him return and settle beside him, handing Jim a glass of wine and then picking up his own. He gently tapped his glass to Jim's and then took a sip. "How was your day?" 

"You're here," Jim just couldn't seem to get past it. He'd thought he'd have to chase, or at least call and invite, or beg or something. This was too easy. 

"Yeah," Blair grinned. "That was the whole idea, wasn't it? You gave me a key, remember?" 

"Yeah," Jim breathed. "I just didn't expect . . ." He couldn't adequately explain his surprise and exhilaration. 

"What? Supper? I wasn't too busy today. The university doesn't need to see me until Monday morning. I was doing some grocery shopping for myself, so I did some for you too. After I dropped off mine, I came over and decided to snoop around, check you out and see if I could get some idea of who Jim Ellison is. You don't mind, do you?" He watched Jim over the top of his glass as he took another sip. 

Jim blinked, startled for a moment at the idea of Blair poking his nose into all the unseen corners of his life and his home. He guessed now that he should have realized that Sandburg the Anthropologist wouldn't hesitate at the invitation implicit in the gift of the key. Blair was an explorer, a scientist. Jim figured he'd better get used to it. "No, not at all," he responded with part amusement, part resignation and part chagrin. At least the man wouldn't have found any dirty underwear under the bed. "As far as you're concerned, I'm an open book, Blair. Anything you want to know, just ask me." 

"Okay," Blair accepted the offer. "I was checking out your bedside table drawer," he smiled at Jim's raised eyebrow. "It's always a good idea to check a new lover's supply of condoms and lube, man." They grinned at each other. "You have a medal," Blair ventured, curiosity brightening his expression. 

"That's right," Jim nodded. "For dedication to duty above and beyond, etc. etc." 

"What's that all about?" Blair frowned. 

"I was stranded in the La Montana region of Peru for 18 months while I was in the Army." 

"I was on the Amazon while I was in Peru. I'm not familiar with that region." Blair's scrutiny became assessing. "What were you doing there?" 

"Special Forces. Army Rangers." Jim kept his tone neutral, his expression blank. 

"Jesus," was Blair's stunned whisper. "Putting aside the question of what the U.S. Army was doing in Peru at all, what the hell were they doing sending you in there and then leaving you for 18 months?" 

Jim sighed, sipped on his wine and wondered what to say. "It's a long story, Blair." 

"And you're going to tell me the whole goddamned thing, Jim," Blair's tone was grim and implacable. "I want to hear all of it, you understand me?" 

"Blair," Jim huffed with exasperation. "I was given orders. Colonels don't explain their orders to their captains, they just expect you to carry them out. Besides, there are parts of that whole experience that even I can't explain. Okay? Things happened. I survived. All I know is what I remember, and what I remember sometimes isn't worth shit. Okay?" He ditched the glass and headed for the doors to his balcony. 

"Calm down, calm down already," Blair followed him. He came to stand right beside Jim. He reached a warm hand out and began to rub between the stiff set of Jim's broad shoulders. "I'm sorry if I came on too strong, man. I don't want to upset you. I just want to know you, Jim. Everything about you and why you are the man you are. How you came to be a decorated hero driving taxi in Cascade for a living. That's all. And if you don't want to tell me, or can't tell me, that's okay. I'll back off, man. Whatever you need." 

"No," Jim responded instantly. He turned and grabbed Blair by both arms. "I don't want you to back off, Blair. I just . . ." His fingers tightened on the sinewy muscles under his fingers. "I just need some time to think about it all. I need to get my head together about it all." He licked his lips nervously. "A lot of it is painful stuff, Blair. Stuff that I've never told anyone since it happened." He relaxed slightly when he felt Blair's hands come up to rest at his waist, clasping him lightly. "I was a mess when I got back to the States. Everything had changed; the world, me, the Army, everything. Nothing's been the same since and I just keep walking around in this shit trying to survive." 

Jim pulled Blair closer and the young man came into his arms easily, his hands sliding up and around to mark soothing paths on Jim's back again. "Driving taxi is a survival mechanism, Blair," Jim sighed. "I didn't know how I was going to survive after Peru, but I did. I rebuilt my life. And when that came crashing down around me too, well . . ." He shrugged and tightened his arms around Blair. "Danny Pascoe shoved me into a taxi and said 'drive, at least it'll pay the bills.' And he was right. It keeps me busy, it pays the bills, and I'm starting to feel human again. Like maybe I can start over again." He pulled back and looked down into Blair's wide open curiosity. "Like maybe I've got something to give somebody again." He sighed as Blair frowned. "Like maybe somebody will want what's left of me." 

Blair leaned back against the strength of Jim's arms and brought his hands up to smooth the front of Jim's shirt. "Jim, you are so generous and passionate and brave. You are a man worth knowing," he lifted one hand to Jim's cheek, "a man worth loving . . . no matter what your life has been in the past." 

"You don't know, Blair," Jim shook his head dispiritedly. "You just don't know." 

"But you're gonna tell me, Jim," Blair reiterated. "I want to know everything you remember, everything you've done. I want to hear it all. And when you've talked yourself out and I've listened to it all, we'll put back in the past what needs putting in the past, and then move on with the future." 

"But what if after hearing it all, you don't want any part of that future?" 

"Not gonna happen, man," Blair shook his head. "You forget, Jim." He reached up and pulled Jim down and placed a firm kiss on the big man's lips, holding it for an instant before releasing him. "I've tasted your heart, man," he whispered close to Jim's face. "I was in your arms and in your body last night." He held Jim's firm jaw between his broad palms. "I felt your acceptance of me. It was more than skin deep, Jim, and that felt damn good." One thumb slid forward and brushed across Jim's bottom lip. "I think you know that I accepted more than your key from you this morning. Am I right?" 

Jim's eyes had drifted closed at the feel of that tender caress on his lip. When they opened again they were burning blue fire at Blair. "All I know is I've never met anyone else like you, Blair, in my whole life. I've never felt this out of control of my feelings before either. I think I'm falling in love with you and I'm scared out of my fucking mind here and I don't know what the hell to do about it." Jim ran out of breath. 

Blair stared at Jim, his face expressionless as his hands dropped to his sides. They stared at each other solemnly for what seemed like half a lifetime, but was probably only a couple of minutes. Then Blair reached up to caress Jim's face again, watching his hand move over the stubbled skin. 

"I think everything's gonna be okay, Jim. I don't have any intention of trying to hurt you, man. I don't think I could live with myself if I did." He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. "I don't know about love though." He met Jim's eyes again. "I haven't had a lot of experience with love. I'm just too selfish, you know?" He looked away again, not being able to sustain the intensity of that pale blue eyed stare. "I've been wrapped up in my career; lots of places to go and things to do. Relationships? I haven't had the time or the inclination," he shrugged philosophically. "Sex? Sure, sex is easy, sex is good. I love sex and I've had a lot of partners." He looked up again and met the intense blue gaze. "Seems pretty empty right now." 

Suddenly, Blair reached up with a quick movement, as if goaded beyond his own will, to brush a passionate lingering kiss across Jim's mouth. He pulled back slowly, seeming to consider Jim's face in a new light. "I liked what I felt with you last night, Jim." Blair paused to take in a deep breath and then let it out again, as if he was just now accepting the solid indisputable fact of his feelings for the older man for the very first time. "I like what I'm feeling right now, right here." He glanced over to the kitchen, belatedly remembering the pot on the stove. He smiled back up at Jim. "I liked coming here and cooking for you. It felt . . ." Blair shrugged sheepishly, then peered up shyly through his eyelashes at the big man. "Comfortable," he grinned. "How weird is that, huh?" 

"I like the sound of that, Blair," Jim admitted quietly. He leaned down and brushed his lips against Blair's. "What did you cook for me?" 

"Just a simple stew, lots of veggies, some lean meat. You'll love it." Blair reciprocated with his own lips. 

"I'll go get cleaned up . . . and then you can . . . give me a taste, okay?" Jim spoke with his lips against Blair's, his words and his breath playing over the younger man's warmly. 

"Oh, man," Blair breathed. "Anything I got . . . anything you want . . . You just name it, Jim." 

"I wanna eat you up and fuck your ass, babe," Jim drawled crudely with a wicked leer. He trailed the fingers of both hands up the length of Blair's nascent erection through his pants and then pulled back, separating their bodies completely. "But first we better have some of that food." Then he turned and headed towards the bathroom with a suggestive whistle and a self-conscious sway in his stride. He knew Blair was watching every moving muscle. 

"Shit." Jim heard Blair's whisper behind him and couldn't help grinning. 

* * *

With dinner over, the kitchen cleared and coffee consumed, the late night shadows found them on the sofa in front of the fire again with Jim finally speaking haltingly about his experiences. Seated beside him but not touching, Blair watched Jim, hanging on every word and practically bursting with questions. 

Jim tried to explain to Blair about what happened to him in Peru and the lingering feelings of survivor guilt. Blair heard about Jim's surprise and relief at his acceptance by the Chopec. Jim struggled to describe how the very fact that most of his memories of that time were vague and half remembered was frightening to him, and yet the clear memories that he did retain from Peru were ones of incredible freedom and a contentment in his daily existence that he'd never felt since. He remembered that he had felt entirely at home in the jungle and that was the most strange and bewildering realization of all. 

"Jim, you were dropped alone and wounded into an alien and perhaps hostile environment. There were no attempts made to recover you or your men. You had no contact with the outside world. I know you managed to get along with the Chopec, but how can you call that freedom? You were as good as trapped in the jungle, Jim, for a year and a half." 

The older man was shaking his head before Blair had finished speaking. "It wasn't like that at all. The Chopec rescued me, healed me, adopted me into their tribe. Their shaman fostered me like a son, taught me so much more of their language than the survival phrases the military had made us memorize." 

Blair couldn't help interjecting, "Like what? 'Excuse me, senor, please don't kill me'?" 

"Not quite," Jim answered with a snort. "Things like: 'we mean you no harm' and 'don't be afraid' and 'we are here to help.' Typical first contact bullshit." 

"And it worked on the Chopec?" Blair was skeptical. 

"Never had the chance to use any of it at the time," Jim shrugged. "And when I came around to find myself in Incacha's care, he and I used a kind of sign language until I could pick up more of the local dialect." 

"Incacha?" Blair latched onto the name. "Was that the shaman's name?" 

"Yeah," Jim nodded. "He introduced me to the rest of the tribe and taught me the language. It wasn't long before he had me on guard duty as a kind of local watchman. He had a name for it, if I can just remember it." Jim bent his head in thought. 

"What?" Blair asked. "Like 'guardian'?" 

"No. More like a sentry." Jim's frown cleared. "That was it. He called me a sentinel." 

"He what?" Blair's eyebrows rose in shocked recognition at the term. 

"What's wrong?" Jim was surprised at Blair's response. 

"Nothing," Blair blinked. "It's just that I've heard that word before, but not in reference to modern primitive cultures. There are historical accounts of tribal guardians called sentinels in some obscure anthropological studies I've read." 

"Well, the Chopec may have been primitive, but they were well organized and the shaman was highly intelligent. He taught me the lowdown on the local customs and made sure I became familiar with the local terrain, which in turn helped me to continue to fulfil my duties to the Army." 

"The Army?" Blair was shaking his head. "You were wounded and stranded, Jim. Where was the Army when you needed them?" 

Jim sighed, his expression grim. Blair obviously didn't understand. "I healed, Blair. When I was fit, I had to try and do the mission I'd been sent out there to do. I was still a captain in the United States Army with a sworn duty to carry out my orders." 

"Your orders?" Blair still sounded amazed. 

"To raise a local militia and hold the Chopec pass, preventing penetration by hostile forces trying to infiltrate the region through the mountains." 

"And the Chopec co-operated with you?" 

"Well, it was to their advantage to keep strangers from invading their territory, so our goals were pretty much the same. I trained them in counter-insurgent techniques and they taught me how to use local weaponry. For over a year we turned back anybody coming within twenty miles of the Chopec pass." 

"What else did that shaman teach you?" Blair's intense curiosity was making Jim nervous. He hadn't really talked about Incacha to another living soul. He hadn't thought about the man in years. 

"What, like which beetles taste the best?" Jim tried a little humour to alleviate some of the tension he was feeling at all the questions. 

"Jim . . ." Blair just sounded exasperated at the diversion. 

Jim couldn't keep the frustration out of his tone. "Chief, the things he taught me about their environment, their customs and their beliefs would fill an encyclopedia. There's no way I can fill you in on it in fifty words or less. And besides, I doubt if I remember half of it after all this time." 

"All right, all right," Blair gave in. He obviously thought it was more important at this point to keep Jim talking than to get answers to his specific questions. "We'll leave the shaman alone for now. What happened after you got back from Peru?" 

"I wanted out," Jim explained with relief at leaving the topic of the jungle behind. "Out of the uniform and away from the politics that sent men to die on missions that seemed to have no meaningful purpose. I mean, I didn't fool myself that the Army cared anything about preserving the Chopec's territory. The goal was probably political and we were probably expendable. I just didn't want to lead any more men into any more situations where I couldn't do any damn thing for them but watch them die." He shrugged at Blair. "What would you call it? Burnout?" 

"I guess it was a pretty confusing time for you," Blair conceded quietly. 

"Confusing?" Jim gave a snort. "There's an understatement. The neverending questions, the press, the testing, the noise, the people . . . it felt like I was in a goddamned straight-jacket. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I told the brass I wanted my discharge papers as fast as they could print them so that I could get the hell out of there." 

"You couldn't breathe?" Blair pounced on the information. He turned and pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged on the sofa. The movement brought him closer to Jim as he leaned forward anxiously. "What do you mean? The military atmosphere was stifling after the freedom of the jungle, or did you really experience physical distress symptoms?" 

"Both," Jim admitted. He turned and sagged back into the cushions in the corner of the sofa, unconsciously positioning himself facing Blair. "They obviously thought it was all in my head. Stress or something. They sent me for some R&R. When I got back I told them I still wanted out and I didn't care what the regs said or didn't say." 

"What happened?" One of Blair's hands came out and settled on Jim's outstretched leg. 

"Well," Jim sighed heavily. "They put me through some more medical testing and then told me they figured it was just stress, battle fatigue, whatever . . . even their doctors couldn't agree. They finally granted me my discharge after offering me all kinds of inducements to stay. Needless to say, I didn't take them. Instead I took all my back pay and headed for home." 

Blair was nodding. "And home was Cascade?" 

"Yeah." Jim's hand came down and landed on his thigh. His fingers brushed the backs of Blair's. "I stayed with Danny Pascoe when I got back. He and I had been running into each other since basic training. Whenever we ended up in the same spot we hung out together. We were both officers and came from the same hometown. We got along together well, knew a lot of the same people back home." 

"He hired you to drive for his company?" Blair turned his hand over and felt Jim's fingertips move over his. The older man was staring at their hands but his mind was obviously somewhere else. 

"Nah, not then," Jim frowned. "He hadn't been a civilian long and was still working on the whole being disabled thing. He got shot in the back on a mission not long after I left for Peru. He'd spent a long time in Army hospitals recovering and he was still working on his rehabilitation. Hadn't gotten into the business yet. We both just needed the company." 

"What did you end up doing?" 

"Well, after I'd taken stock of my qualifications and talked to a few people, I went into the police academy. Cascade PD were anxious to make use of my skills and I wanted a job that would mean something. I wanted to get back to the reason I joined the armed forces in the first place; to make a difference." 

"The police department," Blair nodded musingly, flattening his hand out as Jim's warm palm moved to rest over his. "Makes sense." 

"It was good," Jim agreed. "I had no problems making detective. They gave me a lot of leeway and I got them results. I did a lot of good work for them in Vice and then Major Crime wanted me and, hell, who was I to say no? Major Crime is the cream of the crop." 

"You liked Major Crime," Blair made it a statement as he absently watched Jim's fingers explore his lifeline. 

"It fit me like a glove," Jim's pride was evident. "Simon Banks gave me all the support I needed and I got him the convictions he needed. We became good friends over the course of the time I was there. He was the one who went out on a limb and got me my disability pension when everything went to hell." 

"What do you mean?" Blair's raised eyebrows showed his bewilderment. "What exactly happened? I'm not suggesting that I doubt what you're saying, Jim, but if you don't mind my saying so," he smiled, "you hardly seemed disabled last night, man." 

Jim matched Blair's reminiscent little smile for a moment, but it faded as he continued. "That's because most of the problem has disappeared." Jim's exploring fingers seemed to be concentrating on rubbing a small scar on the side of Blair's thumb. "I've been lucky. I haven't had any attacks lately and life has been pretty good all around." 

"Attacks?" Blair frowned. 

"Well, I guess 'attacks' is kind of extreme, as descriptions go," Jim shrugged. "I was having a lot of weird sensory problems. Nobody could find a cause for them or come up with any suggestions to help control them short of keeping me drugged to the gills with tranquillizers." 

Blair's eyes went wide. "What kinds of problems, Jim?" 

Blair seemed to be suppressing some strong emotion at Jim's words. It made Jim wary about how he should proceed. "Well, you're gonna think this sounds kinda wild." 

"Nah, not at all," Blair leaned forward earnestly, clutching Jim's fingers reassuringly in his now. "I'm an anthropologist, remember, Jim. I deal with the unusual all the time. Just tell me what happened." 

Jim took another deep breath before beginning cautiously. He flexed his fingers in Blair's grip, but didn't pull away. "Well, for a while there I actually thought I was going crazy." He met Blair's eyes. "I kept expecting the guys in the white coats to show up." 

Blair smiled and used both hands to hold Jim's. "Jim, you are one of the most sane, most down-to-earth, unpretentious, straight-forward people I've met." 

Jim sighed and gave him a small grateful smile. He leaned forward and took Blair's hands in his. "Yeah, I used to think I was too, but then I started hearing voices, and the doctors started talking about hallucinations, and well, I started getting pretty nervous." 

"Voices," Blair was frowning in concentration again, studying Jim's expression. "What kinds of voices?" 

"I know this doesn't make much sense," Jim admitted with a shrug, " but I was sitting in the park one day near my place, minding my own business, when out of the blue I hear two ladies start arguing about laundry detergent." He studied Blair's face, looking for any change of expression, but Blair was just as intent on his words after the confession as before it. He began to think that he had at last found someone who would take him seriously about this stuff. 

"What?" Blair's frown deepened. 

"My reaction exactly." Jim let some of the anxiety that he had felt at the time show in his eyes. "I started looking around, but the park was deserted. There was no one on the street, no cars parked at the curb. But these two women were arguing about the best stuff to use to get their husbands' socks white! I ask you? Is it any wonder I started asking myself what the hell was going on in my head?" 

Blair just stared at him hard for a few minutes. Then he asked a question right out of left field. "Which park was that?" 

"What?" Jim sat back, dropping Blair's hands, and just looked at him in shock. 

Blair's tone was insistent as he leaned forward further as Jim retreated. He kept one hand on Jim's leg. "Which park were you sitting in when you heard the women's voices?" 

Jim continued to stare at Blair, trying to figure out the reasoning behind his line of questioning. "Why?" 

"Which park, Jim?" Blair repeated doggedly. 

"The one near my place, I told you, on Prospect." Jim's bewilderment was clear in his voice. 

"Which end of Prospect?" 

"The south end, it's an Italian neighbourhood, you know. Tony's Pizza is a block away at Prospect and Main Street. The park is another couple of blocks past that." 

Blair's eyes lit up and his grip tightened. "Isn't there a big grocery store down there somewhere?" 

Jim thought for a moment. "Yeah, another block past the park. It's called SuperSave. I shop there on Fridays. Why?" 

"Just bear with me, Jim," Blair urged. "Is it possible that you may have heard a couple of women talking inside the grocery store?" 

Jim's eyebrows rose at the question. "From inside the grocery store? Another whole block away? Are you crazy now?" 

Blair bit his lip but didn't answer that. After a moment's thought, he asked, "What else, Jim?" 

"What do you mean, what else?" Jim was trying vainly not to get upset at the way Blair's questions seemed to make as little sense as the incidents they were discussing. 

"What other kinds of hallucinations were you experiencing? Tell me about some more of them," Blair insisted. 

Jim just shook his head in exasperation. "Why, for Christ's sake?" 

"Because I think I may have an explanation for why they were happening, that's why!" 

* * *

"Because I think I may have an explanation for why they were happening, that's why!" Blair's tone was exasperation tinged with barely leashed excitement. 

Jim was speechless. "That's impossible," he finally whispered. 

"No, it's not." Blair was firm about that. His eyes were positively gleaming in the firelight. "Now tell me about the other hallucinations. I want to hear about as many of them as you can remember." 

Like an automaton, Jim answered. He didn't want to remember. He didn't want to have to relive the pain and confusion and despair and overwhelming helplessness of that time. He had thought the aftermath of his return from Peru was bad. It hadn't been nearly as debilitating as the hell his senses had put him through during his last weeks as a cop. He looked up into Blair's face. His lover was waiting. Did he have the right to ask this of Jim? Jim sighed, already knowing the answer. 

Jim's voice was lifeless as he began to recount instance after instance of his senses feeding him information that didn't make any sense: voices coming into his head out of nowhere, his vision playing tricks on him, seeing things that he couldn't possibly have seen, not being able to stand the taste of the foods at his favourite restaurant, and not being able to wear some of his favourite articles of clothing anymore because the fabrics were just too irritating against his skin. He recounted the whole embarrassing situation of trying to explain the unexplainable to Simon and to the department doctors. 

"I had to stop going to crime scenes because every time there was a dead body the smell of blood and shit just sent my stomach heaving as soon as I caught a whiff." He couldn't stand Blair's bright eyed stare. "Jesus, Blair. I was a soldier in the Army for ten years. I was a cop for five. I've seen more dead bodies than most civilians ever have nightmares about and all of a sudden I can't handle the smell of blood? It was so damn humiliating, tossing my cookies every time Simon sent me out to check on a body. I was the laughing stock of Major Crime. Big tough Jim Ellison." 

"What else?" Blair seemed obsessed. Jim stared at him hard for a moment and then continued, his voice becoming just as hard. 

"I couldn't shoot my gun without my ears ringing so bad I couldn't hear a darn thing afterward for about five minutes, and that doesn't take into account the pain at the time of the gun's report. It wasn't so bad on the range with the ear protectors, but I couldn't fire my gun on the street without the noise dropping me as fast as the bullet dropped the perp." His voice was grim. "I was a menace on the street and Simon was right to pull me. I was out of control and no good to the department in that shape." 

Blair made no comment on that statement. "What finally happened?" 

Jim steeled himself, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "Another cop got hurt," he practically growled the confession. "My backup had to come in and rescue me from a situation I should have been able to handle on my own." His voice was heavy with self-disgust. "It wouldn't have happened if I had been able to do my job. I handed in my resignation that same day, but Simon wouldn't accept it." The remembered anger with himself and with his boss was still there in his voice. 

But Blair was intent on some other idea. "Simon Banks?" 

"The Captain of Major Crime," Jim nodded. "He's one of my best friends and a real prince of a man. He had me go get my hearing tested again by a specialist and they decided that my hearing had grown too sensitive for field duty. Simon twisted the right arms until they gave me a disability pension so that I could retire with some kind of income. They didn't have to do it. They could have stuck me at a desk until regular retirement. He arranged it all for me." He nodded again at Blair's reaction of surprise. "He's one beautiful man and a good, good friend." 

"I'd like to meet him." Blair smiled at some internal thought. "Do you think I could do that?" 

"It can probably be arranged." Jim wondered what Simon would make of Blair. "We still get together occasionally for a drink or dinner." 

"So you still had some support within the department?" Blair's tone was thoughtful, as if he was trying to visualize Jim's circumstances. 

"Not really," Jim confessed drily. "I worked alone in Major Crime. I was Simon's pit bull. But the department didn't much give a damn. By then I was just a liability to get rid of as cheaply as possible. I figure I got the pension because they didn't want any hint of a lawsuit if I could prove my condition was a direct result of getting hurt on the job." 

Blair's eyebrows rose. "Did you get hurt on the job?" 

"Just the usual concussions, contusions, cuts and bullet creases. It adds up after five years, you know," he smiled sheepishly. 

"Man," Blair sighed. "You needed a partner to tell you when to duck." 

"Maybe," Jim frowned at that idea. That was all he'd needed, a partner to worry about as well. "Maybe I was lucky to get out when I did, whatever the reason." He glanced at Blair and saw the other man frowning. He realized he hated seeing Blair frown. It was time to change the subject. "That's all over now, anyway." 

Blair, however, was still engrossed. "But I thought you loved the job." 

"I did, but getting killed on the job would have kept me from meeting you," Jim smiled. "And I'd hate to think of that never happening." 

Blair smiled too, but refused to be sidetracked. "Jim. Can we talk about . . ." 

"Later." Jim suddenly felt that he couldn't handle another moment of this dissection of his unfortunate past. He had had enough for one night. He wanted something else now, something completely different. Whatever was left to say, whatever Blair thought he knew, Jim knew he couldn't handle any more grief tonight. 

"But Jim . . ." Blair hadn't gotten the message yet. 

"Enough is enough, Blair," Jim insisted. "I don't want to talk about it any more tonight. I don't want to even think about it any more tonight." 

"Jim, we're gonna have to talk about it." Blair tried to appeal to Jim's common sense. 

Jim sighed, but didn't budge. "Tomorrow. Okay?" 

"Okay, but . . ." Blair was still frowning and Jim couldn't stand it a moment longer. 

"Blair!" his voice rose with suppressed anger. 

Blair didn't seem to hear it. "But, Jim. Just listen . . ." 

"No!" Jim finally grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him closer. He watched the younger man's eyes widen in surprise. "You listen! I can't talk about that time any more tonight, Blair. I'm warning you." He gave the other man a hard shake just to get his point across and then pushed him back against the sofa cushions. He stared into the big blue eyes. "I went through hell two years ago," Jim ground out from a clenched jaw. "I wanted to die, do you hear me? I was this close," he held up one hand, thumb and forefinger pressed together, "this close to eating a bullet just to get away from the constant . . ." He drew in a deep breath, "constant . . . pressure . . . the smells . . . the noise . . . the pain! Blair . . ." Jim's voice dropped, became almost pleading, reflecting his frustration. "You have no idea what it was like! No idea!" He gave Blair another small shake. He didn't want to hurt Blair but he had to make him understand what he was asking him to do. 

"Okay, okay . . ." Blair crooned, belatedly trying to soothe Jim's agitation by running his hands up and down Jim's arms from shoulder to elbow. 

"No! It's not okay," Jim insisted. "You're asking me to remember something I just want to forget. It's over now." Jim dropped his hands from their frantic grip on Blair's shoulders and lay them deliberately on the younger man's thighs, then rubbed them slowly up and down the strong, warm muscles under his palms. "I'm normal again and I'm gonna stay that way. There is nothing I want more than to forget it ever happened. I'm normal. Everything is normal," he repeated. "I just really really need you to . . ." 

His last words were mouthed into Blair's chest. The younger man had pulled Jim into his arms, cradling the back of the older man's head and holding it close against him. "I know, Jim. I do know. I do," Blair spoke into Jim's hair. "Right now, I think you need some rest. It's late. Let's go to bed now, okay? Let's just go upstairs and get into bed, and get comfortable together and get some sleep. That's what we both need right now. Okay?" 

"Blair?" Jim pulled his head back to look up into Blair's face. 

"I'm not going anywhere, Jim. I'm gonna stay right here. Right with you, man." What he saw on Jim's face he must have taken for acceptance, because he pushed Jim gently away from him and got to his feet. Then he took firm hold of Jim's hand and pulled the bigger man after him towards the stairs to the loft bedroom. "Come on." 

"I need to lock up," Jim protested even as he followed Blair up the stairs. 

"I'll look after that," Blair assured him. And then he was undressing Jim and pushing him onto the bed. "Get under the covers. I'll be right back." 

Jim lay curled on his side in bed and listened to the door being bolted and the lights being flipped off as the loft was plunged into darkness. He listened to the pad of Blair's feet, the splash of urine in the toilet, a flush, running water and then Blair's footsteps returning to him. The dark shape of his lover materialized out of the shadows beside the bed and then Blair was slipping naked under the covers beside him. He reached out and found Jim still clad in his boxers, quickly divested him of them and disposed of them over the side of the bed. Then he moved into Jim's arms. 

"Let me love you, Jim." Blair reached down and took Jim's half-hardness into his warm clasp. He stroked it gently but firmly and was rewarded with a groan from Jim as it filled, lengthening and pulsing with hot blood. "I think we both need it right now." Jim moaned again and pushed himself into Blair's strong grip. "I want to make you feel good, Jim. We'll forget about everything else for now. Just relax and let me make you feel so good." 

"Oh, God, Blair. You do." Jim floundered under the intensity of his arousal. Blair was pressed to his side, hot and sexy and whispering what Jim wanted to hear. Blair's hand was giving him just the right touches in the right places. Oh, yeah. This was all he needed right now. Make the world go away, Blair, he begged inside his head, unable to articulate it, but knowing that Blair understood somehow, anyway. "Yes . . ." he encouraged as Blair moved in between his thighs. Jim parted them for him eagerly, pulling Blair up on top of him, cradling Blair with his long legs pulled up and his feet braced on the bed. 

Blair aligned their bodies, positioning himself over Jim and then lowering himself on knees and elbows until their bodies were flush together, hard cocks sliding and bumping together on their bellies. He slid his arms beneath Jim's shoulders and cupped Jim's head in his hands, tilting it to the angle he wanted. Then Blair proceeded to ravish Jim's generous mouth even as he pumped his cock into the growing wetness between their pelvises. 

Jim arched in pleasure. Blair's tongue and lips made love to his mouth. Blair's warm fingers massaged his skull. Blair's chest hair brushed tantalizingly against his tender nipples at irregular intervals. Blair's strong hairy thighs were brushing back and forth against the insides of his with each thrust of the strong body against his. The exquisite hot silk of Blair's cock slid along his, and the wonderful, wonderful weight and friction of Blair's belly pressed down onto him. Jim thrust himself up against that weight, that friction and let the growing pleasure take him. It translated into an overwhelming urgency and he bucked almost helplessly beneath Blair, pleading for more, reaching for the oblivion of ecstasy. 

"Blair, Blair . . ." Jim panted. He thrust his hips up to meet the downward thrust of Blair's, the two of them meeting again and again in a fury of synchronized movements. "So good, so good . . ." Jim almost whimpered as the pleasure and the pressure inside his genitals became almost unbearable. 

"Jim!" Blair's voice was harsh and insistent. It drew Jim out of his momentary fugue and drew his eyes to Blair's, hovering above him. The deep blue shimmered and burned and Jim met that gaze in wonder. Christ, it was the most erotic sight Jim had ever seen. "Your fingers," Blair grated and when Jim just stared at him blankly, his hips faltering in their motion, Blair reached down and grabbed one of Jim's big hands that had been locked onto the globes of Blair's ass. "Fingers!" he pulled Jim's hand to his mouth and sucked on the long fingers in question for an endless minute. Their eyes met and Jim's widened in comprehension. 

Blair released the fingers with a wet slurp and then guided the hand back to his buttocks. Jim automatically slid them over the taut skin and towards the pucker hidden in the crack between the mounds of sweaty flesh. He watched Blair's eyes widen and then drop closed as he slid two fingers, one at a time, slowly and carefully into the waiting hole. He felt Blair tighten his muscles and then loosen them and with that welcome, Jim slid his fingers in deeper, hardly daring to breathe. Blair moaned, spread his thighs a little wider between Jim's. He resumed the slow heavy push down against Jim and then pushed back into Jim's hand. 

Jim lay still until Blair had re-established a rhythm and then he started to join him. The unbearable pleasure began to grow inside Jim again and Blair's ever increasing groans were a delicious spur. The slick swallowing and releasing of his fingers in Blair's hot ass was an insistent counterpoint to the slick slide of hot cocks between them. His head was buzzing by the time he heard Blair's strangled cry against his shoulder. The body in his arms arched, ass muscles clenched tight around his fingers and the first hot spurt of Blair's semen finished Jim off as it scorched a path across his cockhead. The fire of it seared him right from tip to root and he arched beneath Blair's weight, grinding their pulsing cocks together between them. Jim shuddered through the last of his release just as Blair collapsed on top of him, releasing his fingers. Jim let himself go limp against the mattress, Blair draped like a blanket over him. His mind was blessedly blank, his body sated as he let himself drift off to sleep, comforted by his lover's weight and heat. 

End 


End file.
